Nostalgia
by KazunaPikachu
Summary: Alice has regained a memory – a memory of a miniature Raven. But instead of calling him Raven, she called him 'Gilbert'… and maybe, just maybe, she actually – had possibly – … loved him. GilxAlice


Nostalgia

KazunaPikachu

-x-

Alice has regained a memory – a memory of a miniature Raven. But instead of calling him Raven, she called him 'Gilbert'… and maybe, just maybe, she actually – had possibly – … loved him.

-x-

'_Like an old photograph_

_Time can make a feeling fade_

_But the memory of a first love_

_Never fades away_

Tim McGraw

-x-

From the first moment, she knew he hated her.

A few reasons popped into her head: she was a Chain, she made an illegal contract with Oz, her very personality repelled him. But now she knew – none of those things were enough for him to hate her so much (okay, perhaps the second point was). His hate – although he may not have remembered – originated from a place a hundred years ago.

When she was human and locked up in a tower.

Alice couldn't meet him in the eye anymore. She didn't argue with him when he threw insults at her. She took it silently, almost ignoring him, and let him rage at her without complaint. Because the memory she retrieved, the memory she fought so hard to obtain, was something dark and unwanted. It gave him the _right_ to treat her as he did, because she'd done so much worse to him before.

Of course, her peculiar behaviour didn't go passed any of her closest companions. Break noticed, Oz fretted, Sharon looked on with concern; Gil, once he realized something was wrong, even stopped insulting her altogether.

"What's wrong with that stupid rabbit?" he commented once Alice retreated to her room after lunch. "She's been acting weird ever since we got that memory back for her."

"And that was two days ago," Oz said grimly. He hated it when Alice was bothered by something and she wouldn't share it with him. He thought they could share anything together. As always, his mood was greatly affected by Alice's. "What can we do? I've tried talking to her but she doesn't confide in me."

Break unwrapped a piece of hard candy and plopped it into his open mouth. "Perhaps Raven should try and cheer her up?" he suggested with a smile. As he rolled his tongue across the round lolly, he watched with amusement as Gilbert's eyes widened with disbelief.

"_Me_?" he asked, incredulous. "Why me? Shouldn't Lady Sharon try talking to the stupid Chain?"

"Use your head please, dear Raven," Break tutted as he wagged his finger disapprovingly. "Think about the patterns occurring. She avoids speaking only to _you_. She acts normally around everyone else." Because he was still eating dessert, he stabbed a fork into his strawberry cheesecake slice. "Perhaps the memory she got back involved something to do with you?" he asked in a cheery voice. He consumed the entire cheesecake in one bite.

Gilbert blinked. "Something to do with me?" He frowned. Well, from what he could remember in his blurry expanse of memory, the Alice he knew from a hundred years ago was cruel, cruel, cruel. Perhaps the stupid Chain actually feels guilt about doing all those horrible things to him and Vincent?

"You should try speaking to her, Gilbert," Sharon said sweetly, pouring herself another cup of tea. "It could be good for the both of you."

The golden eyed man resisted the urge to snort in doubt. But when he glanced at Oz, the young master was staring at him imploringly. "_Please_ Gil," he begged with wide, emerald eyes. "It's too quiet around here with Alice acting so strangely! Please try to sort out this problem with her…?"

Gil fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat but, after a moment, he sighed in defeat. "Fine," he growled, not hiding the fact that he was not pleased. "I'll go knock some sense into that stupid rabbit."

He stood up. When he left the dining room, Oz was staring at his back hopefully and Break was waving a white handkerchief at him, saying happily, "Try not to tear out each other's throats! Play nice, Raven!"

Gilbert slammed the door closed behind him.

-x-

He didn't bother with niceties – he began slamming his fist against her bedroom door. "Oi!" he growled. "You stupid Black Rabbit! Open up! We need to talk!" He wondered briefly if he should take a gentler approach to the obviously distressed Chain. The thought was quickly erased. He hated being reminded of the past – the past without Oz – and talking to this stupid girl was probably going to send him straight down memory lane.

No one answered him. With a sigh of annoyance, he said, "I'm coming in," and opened the door. When he slipped inside the dark room, the curtains were drawn lazily and it was dimly lit. He spotted Alice immediately. She was sitting by the window sill; unless inspecting the curtains for dust mites was her hobby, he could only assume that she was dazing out.

"Hey? Are you listening to me?" When there was no response, Gil walked forward briskly. "I don't have time to be dealing with this," he said sharply, grabbing her shoulder. "Just tell me what the hell you remembered and I'll be out of your face."

But when he turned her forcefully around to face him, he had the shock of his life.

Silent tears, dripping from her hazy red eyes and crawling down her cheeks. She met Gil's gaze for the first time in two days. A moment passed with him merely staring at her, utterly stunned, and she hardened her eyes. Yet for some reason, the tears continued to fall.

"What the hell do you want?" she snarled at him, defiantly holding his gaze. Her actions were clear: _although I may be crying, I have not become weaker._

Gilbert, however, could still only stare at her. The Chain never cried, or, more accurately, never cried in front of him. What did she see, to affect her so much? "That memory…" he began, his voice a mere whisper than it was when he first came in. "What did you see?"

She crossed her legs on the stool she was sitting on. "If you haven't remembered it yourself, then you wouldn't want to know."

Her vagueness was trying his patience. He grasped her shoulders again but this time, less aggressively. "I want to know," he said firmly. "Don't think you know what I want, because you don't."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not telling you," she said, her tone suddenly cold. "Go away. I don't want to see your face."

The words angered him and he gripped her harder. "And you think I want to see yours?" he asked hotly. He glared furiously into her eyes. "You were my tormentor when I was with Jack. You took him away from me, acted like you _owned_ him. You teased by brother about his eye, openly taunted us – you were a bitch." His hold on her shoulders tightened even more, making her flinch. He didn't care. "My brother and I _hated_ you because you cared about nothing but yourself. You didn't care about Jack at all, did you? You just wanted the attention."

Finally, Alice stood up and shrugged his hands off her violently. "You know nothing!" she snapped, openly glaring. "I never thought it like that! Jack was… was _precious_ to me."

Gil ran a hand through his hair as he regarded her icily. "Well, that's beside the point. Why are you so broody over a single memory? Your teasing shouldn't have affected you – you tease Oz and the rest of us all the time. Stop being such a drama queen and blowing it all out of proportion. You've got Oz worrying about you, although everyone knows you don't deserve it."

"It wasn't just the teasing," she defended, feeling insulted that he thought she was only doing this for attention. "Just get out of my room. I _really_ don't want to argue with you right now."

"No. I'm not leaving until you tell me." He grabbed her wrist before she could move away from him. "Tell me, you stupid rabbit. What's shaken you so much?"

"Like you care anyway!" she retorted hotly. She struggled to release herself from his grip to no prevail. "Leave me alone! I don't want to talk about it with you!"

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll leave. Tell me."

"No!"

"Alice," he said warningly, eyes narrowing. "I don't have time for this!"

"Then leave!"

"This is pointless! Hurry up and just tell me so Oz can-!"

Then she suddenly lunged forward, grabbed his face in both her hands and kissed him.

Gil immediately forgot why he was here. His anger, his frustration, his impatience; they all suddenly disappeared, as if in a puff of smoke. He could only remember that he was in Alice's room, alone with her, and that as she kissed him roughly, he probably tasted like cigarettes and cheesecake.

Then as abruptly as it occurred, she pulled back and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "_That's_ what happened," she said, a little huskily. Yet the guilt was still in her eyes. "That's why I couldn't talk to you for so long, even if it was an argument."

Gil resisted the urge to touch his lips. In his shock and (possibly pleasant?) surprise, it didn't register to him how _she_ tasted. He wanted to do it again. Yet even as he thought this, he crushed down the urge – why the hell was he even thinking about the Chain like that? She wasn't even human. He narrowed his eyes at her. "… What happened?"

Alice knew she could no longer avoid it. She'd kissed him, re-enacted more or less the memory she had regained. Although she remembered him tasting more like bitter tea and cucumber, it was almost exactly the same. The same look he'd given her, the same expression. It was almost too much for Alice to take.

But she had to say it now – otherwise, what was the point of that kiss?

She gave a sigh, suddenly weary, and walked around him to sit on the edge of her bed. "You loved me," she said bluntly, her tears now dry. She wiped the tracks away with her gloved fingers.

Gil spun quickly, so quickly he might have gotten whiplash. His eyes widened as he gaped at her incredulously. "WHAT?" he asked loudly, mouth agape. Surely Alice wasn't _this_ arrogant, to think that _he_ would love _her_ in the other life where she did nothing but torment him and the ones closest to him? He stared at her as if she'd gone mad – it was absurd!

But Alice held his gaze seriously. "No, you loved me, really," she said dryly, as if she could barely believe it either. Then she glanced away and crossed her arms. "But that was a long, long time ago."

"Alright, you stupid rabbit. What the hell is _really_ the matter with you?" He was beginning to seriously question her sanity.

She looked at him again, eyes fierce. She wanted him to believe her – fat chance. "It's true!" she insisted. "You wanted to hear what my memory was about, right? So just shut the hell up and listen!"

Gil crossed his arms, remained standing. He gave her a steely look and, resisting the urge to sigh, said gruffly, "Fine. Just get on with it." This was already so ridiculous – why was he even here? But even so, Alice never usually lied, and especially not about things like _love_. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, no matter how ludicrous her words were. Perhaps she just misinterpreted the memory. That would make far more sense than him _loving_ her. In fact, anything would.

"Okay, just listen and don't say a word. I swear, if you interrupt me, I'll kick your balls." She absently played with her hair as she recounted her memory, her eyes suddenly dazed. "You used to come to the tower sometimes, in the days before Jack introduced you and your brother to me. You were curious, you said, and you climbed up those steps. Strange, because you seemed like such a scaredy cat back then."

Gil flinched at the word 'cat' and even took offence. However, he didn't interrupt. He wouldn't want to get kicked down _there_.

"Anyway, you found me at the top of the tower," Alice continued, still in an absent daze. "And you didn't leave for a couple of hours. There are some blanks in my memory – obviously – but you would come visit again and again… Until, one day, you confessed that you loved me."

"… Why?" Gilbert asked when Alice gave a long pause. He figured it was a safe enough question to ask. He wasn't believing a word she was saying – he had no memory of the events she spoke of – but he reckoned there was no harm in humouring the delusional Chain. "Why would I fall in love with _you_?"

"I know, right?" she whispered glumly. Her answer was unexpected and made Gil's eyes widen. No snarky retort? No raging insults? This was definitely strange. "Well, apparently, I had been toying with you," she stated bluntly. At that, she seemed to come into focus again and met his gaze directly. "Apparently, I was bored and was delighted that a new, naïve little boy had stumbled into my room. Apparently, I thought it would be 'fun' to play with your feelings."

Gil's eyes narrowed. _That_ sounded more like the Alice he knew from the past.

"And you fell right for it, you stupid idiot," she hissed. It was strange – why was _she_ mad at _him_ when she orchestrated the whole thing? "You told me you loved me, and I kissed you. You looked so _innocent_ at that moment… and, when you were at your happiest, that was when I showed you who I truly was." Then she looked away again, too ashamed to look at him. Her face was flushed with anger aimed only at herself. "I laughed right into your face, pointed and taunted. I gave a wicked grin and said that I didn't care for you, not really, not even a little bit. I said you were stupid and a fool to fall for such cheap tricks. 'Who could love a lowly servant like you?' I said, 'Why would I love filth and dirt?' And I laughed, and you ran away. The next time I saw you, you were with your brother, and no longer hiding who I really was, I openly taunted him. And by then, you hated me. _That_… was what my memory showed me."

Gil stood still, not knowing what to say or think. Should he believe her? Should he laugh at her face? How could her words possibly be true? But the Alice she spoke of, the one of a hundred years ago, seemed _so in character_. Perhaps… it _could_ have happened.

Then Alice said something that shocked him even more: "And the worst thing is," she whispered, "is that maybe I _did_, actually, sort of… _like_ you." She looked at him. "That maybe I _did_ fall for you… even when it was me who thought it was a game. Because I felt happy when you confessed, and I felt sad when you left. It's all just some twisted kind of love story where _everyone_ got hurt."

The older man stared down at her, really too stunned to think up a reply. How was one supposed to respond to that? He didn't love her – he was certain of that – and he knew that Alice didn't feel the same way either. But, apparently, they _did_, at some point of time, have _feelings_ for each other. However, the memory was so distant, so far gone and buried in their hearts, that did it even matter what they felt before?

"… Why were you crying?" Gilbert instead asked, breaking the silence of the room. "Surely not because of that?" No, of course not. Alice wouldn't cry for such a tedious memory. She would've scoffed or dismissed it almost entirely as _nothing_. So… what?

Alice sighed, stopped playing with her hair. She glared up at him. "I was a bitch," she growled, angry and spiteful. "I was cruel, cruel, cruel. To everyone – sometimes even to Jack. I-I don't know why I was. I'd… I'd _never_ do those things to anyone! So _who was_ _that girl I saw_? Who _is_ that girl in my distant memories? _Me_?"

She turned away, eyes blurring again. "I'm… afraid," she whispered. And it was only because it was so dark inside her room that she was able to confess this. She would never say it aloud again, not in the bright sunlight. "If… I keep getting memories… of _me_ being so mean and cruel and downright _evil_… I'll begin to hate myself. I'll hate myself."

Gil ran a hand through his hair – yes, it was an argument he'd had many times with himself before. "Stupid rabbit…" he started.

But she glared at him angrily, interrupting him. "I'm not stupid!" she shouted, suddenly standing up. Her hands were clenched tightly by her sides. "I will! I'll hate myself! Because I hurt the people who chased the loneliness away! I was all alone in that tower and sometimes Jack wasn't enough. And then you stumbled along and I was so _happy_. I had more friends! But then- then I did _stupid_ things and I hurt you! I hurt Jack! _Why_?" The question tormented her, expressed clearly through her eyes. "_Why_, Gilbert? You… who _loved_ me… Why did I _hurt_ you?" She covered her eyes with her hands, as if she didn't want him to see them, see her tears. "I'll hate myself…" she whispered brokenly. "I'll hate myself if I hurt the people who make me happy any more…"

Gil hardly ever witnessed this side to Alice. It disturbed him but, at the same time, he was shocked – especially when she called him _Gilbert_. She'd never called him that before.

But he did understand her. After all, the thoughts that ran through her head were thoughts he fought with frequently. He reached forward and grasped her shoulders. This time, his grip was firm but gentle. "You want your memories back, don't you?"

Yet Alice didn't respond. The truth was, after seeing how cruel and malicious she could – _had_ – been, she didn't want to know _that_ Alice anymore. She didn't want, if she gained back all her memories, to _become_ that Alice. That thought, in itself, was a nightmare.

"It's scary, I know," she heard Gilbert say. And for some reason, she didn't retaliate, didn't feel anger. Because she knew he understood. "You're scared that you'll change if you get all your memories back. Look at me, you stupid rabbit. Look at me."

Alice slowly dropped her hands. She stared at him, eyes blurry with tears. Yet she scowled nonetheless and Gil was glad for it.

"But isn't that why we're trying to gain them back?" he asked her, holding her gaze. "We won't have to be uncertain anymore – we won't have to be scared. We'll know _exactly_ who we were… and who we were with… and who we _loved._" He gulped tightly when he said the word. He felt himself blushing - heavens know why - but he wouldn't look away. Not now. "We won't ask ourselves questions like 'what if' or 'who was I'. We'll be able to look back and _know_, for ourselves, _who we were_, and no one will tell us otherwise. Isn't that why you wanted to gain them back in the first place, you stupid rabbit? So you won't feel so incomplete when you're alone with your thoughts?"

"But I… my memories…" she started.

But Gil silenced her with a glare. "It doesn't matter who _that_ Alice was. I _remember_ who she was – she was cruel and evil and would always tease my brother and I whenever she had the chance. She'd look at us with condemning eyes, as if we were nothing but dirt. Like trash. Unworthy for respect. And I _hated_ her, I know for sure." Then he let go of her shoulders and patted her head softly. "But _you_… You're a _different_ Alice…" he said gruffly. "You're the Alice that Oz knows, that _I_ know. You're the Alice… that I don't entirely hate."

She looked at him, eyes wide and exposed. She was baring everything to him at this moment and Gil knew – if he wanted to, he could hurt her seriously. But he wouldn't. Not to this girl.

"Gilbert…"

"You won't change," he said firmly. "The Alice that _I know_ won't let her memories change her. It's almost as absurd as me falling in love with you." He gave a slight chuckle. "Come on, you stupid rabbit. Don't pull an Oz on me – you should know exactly where you stand."

Alice was shocked. Did Gil… just make fun of _Oz_… for _her_? He made a joke of his precious, precious, willing-to-die-for-him-at-any-chance-I-get young master and best friend, for a so-called stupid Chain like her?

She was suddenly aware of him, of all of him. She suddenly realized who she kissed and how it felt. Too distraught with her emotions to care back then, she now, with growing clarity, realized that she wanted to try it _again_ – perhaps she could? Because he was standing so close and, although she hated the scent of cigarettes, perhaps it was okay… if it was Gil.

His eyes widened when she suddenly reached out and held his face with two of her gloved hands. She wanted to take them off, so she could feel his skin, but she didn't want to pull away either. They stared at each other, confusion mixed with anticipation in their eyes. Then she leaned upwards, towards his face, and pressed her lips tenderly on his.

What was she doing? She didn't know – she was only following the conviction that grew inside her.

Gil stiffened, didn't close his eyes. He could feel her, her uncharacteristic gentleness, and it both terrified him and thrilled him. What… was happening?

Then she suddenly pulled away, let go of his face and started walking towards the door, not saying a word.

"You're just going to leave?" Gil spoke up, surprising himself. He didn't know why he said anything – what the hell was coming out of his mouth? But for some reason, his chest was tight, and he didn't want to see her walking away from him and pretending that none of this ever happened. Because… it seemed a bit too _nostalgic _for him. "Why did you kiss me this time? Another demonstration?"

"No…" Alice said slowly, still not facing him. "It's just… I wanted to know… if that _feeling_ was still there."

After a pause, Gil asked, "Is it?"

And he didn't know why – his heart sped up and his cheeks flushed. He found himself _anticipating_, _hoping; _but hoping for _what_, exactly? He didn't hate Alice, that was certain – they've been in far too many dangerous situations to sincerely hate each other – and he found himself thinking lately that they may – more or less – be actually _friends _than grudging rivals for Oz's attention. So why, all of a sudden, did he… _want_… for her to kiss him again? He was restless and excited and dreadful all at the same time – but he didn't hate the feeling.

Alice didn't respond straight away. When she did, she glanced at him. "I… I don't know."

Gil's excitement dulled a little and for the life of him, he didn't understand why he was feeling so disappointed. "Oh…"

Then a flash of mischievousness, a devilish playfulness. "I'd have to do it again and again to _really_ know for sure though." She gave a wicked grin. "But you didn't respond to _any_ of my marvellous kisses… so I shouldn't force myself on you."

"No!" he spluttered. Once again, he had no control of his mouth and he no longer possessed a filter in his brain. "I didn't mind! I actually-!"

He was cut off – _thankfully_ – by Alice's maniacal laughter. "Your expression is _priceless_!" she snickered. "Who knew your face could go so pink, seaweed head?"

If it was possible, his face flushed even darker. "S-Stupid rabbit! What are you playing at?" he snapped, eyes narrowed. Yet, subconsciously, he liked her cheery laughter. It was a relief, after seeing her cry.

"Ha ha!" She placed her hands on her hips haughtily, smirking. "Think I was serious? Of course I wouldn't like a seaweed head like you! For one thing, you smoke and you smell like cigarettes! And you're always angry and broody and never get me any meat! You don't acknowledge that, by being Oz's servant, you're _my_ servant too! Who'd want an insolent guy like you who doesn't know his place when talking to his master?"

A vein popped in his head as he glared at her. His eyebrow twitched. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?" he asked her irritably. "After all that, you still-!"

"But, I have to give you _some_ credit. You're not as useless as I first thought." She glanced away slightly. "In fact… I feel a lot better. So then… I guess I should thank you."

But Gil was still pissed. "Then why did you kiss me?"

The memory of it made Alice blush. "S-Stupid! I told you it was a joke, didn't I?" she stuttered. Then she looked at him defiantly. "Actually, it was my 'thank you'! So now I don't need to return you a favour! We're equal now, got it?"

Gil blinked at her skeptically. "I'd like to return that 'thank you' then," he said.

"Well, you can't!" she huffed, crossing her arms stubbornly. "It's rude to return a gift, right? Don't be rude, Gil!"

His eyes widened. For someone who wasn't usually surprised, he'd been widening his eyes quite a lot recently.

She just called him 'Gil'.

But before he could comment on it, she was rushing towards the door. "Don't tell Oz about this!" she hissed at him. "I'll die of embarrassment!" Yet the pink was still in her cheeks and when she glanced at him, her gaze lingered for longer than it should. "Just… Just forget about it!" she growled and then walked out, slamming the door behind her (which was weird, because wasn't it _her_ room?)

Gil stood there anyway, feeling a headache forming.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe _this_ Alice was a little bit like _that_ Alice after all.

Because she was cruel, wasn't she?

She left him here, in her room, all confused and flushed and oddly restless. She hadn't done _anything_ but make him… make him… what?

_Make him wanting more_.

"Damn it, Alice," he muttered beneath his breath. He ran a hand through his wavy, dark hair. "I wanted to return it… I wanted to return the…"

_The kiss._

But, being as cruel as she was, she didn't let him. And now he had to go chase after her, make her _remember_ what happened in this room between the two of them. Because something _had_ happened, didn't it? Otherwise, he wouldn't be feeling so odd, so _lightheaded_, right now. His heart wouldn't be beating so fast and he wouldn't be wanting to… to…

_To kiss Alice back._

He chuckled to himself. Why the hell was he feeling so terribly nostalgic?

Because what she said… about the whole 'he loved Alice' thing… couldn't be true.

Right?

-x-

Alice, after running through the halls, finally stopped and fell back against the wall. Alone in the hallway, she slumped to the floor and covered her face with her hands. Even through the gloves, she could feel her skin, scorching hot.

Because she _had_ felt it when she kissed him.

She felt that little spark.

And they kind of liked this feeling of nostalgia… that they feared – they hoped – was love.

-x-

KazunaPikachu


End file.
